


sorry to my unknown lover

by peytonpeach



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Heavy Angst, Pining, Sad Ending, Yasha-centric (Critical Role), diverges from c2 e93, yasha offers something to isharnai that she can't take back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peytonpeach/pseuds/peytonpeach
Summary: Yasha wants to scream at her and hold her at the same moment. She thinks, as the hag continues, this love will tear me apart.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	sorry to my unknown lover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beyondmythoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyondmythoughts/gifts).



> song title from "sorry" by halsey  
> big thank you to caleb for reading this over xx  
> tumblr: softvaxildan

“What is something you wish for on a night’s cloudy sky?” The hag asks, and one image enters Yasha’s mind as she speaks. A flash of blue robes, a rough staff, brown skin against white pages of dozens of books.

“Beau.” The name spills from her mouth quickly and she wishes, somehow, that she could reel it back in. That she could hide this, flatten it like a flower in her book. But the witch has heard her wish, and Yasha grimaces as she realizes that she’s going through with this. 

She’d do anything for her friends. For Nott. 

“Beauregard Lionett,” the hag says slowly, shadows gathering around her. “Very strange. She offered herself to me, you know. Offered to leave all that brings her joy. She’s… much different from her father.”

Yasha wants to scream at her and hold her at the same moment. She thinks, as the hag continues,  _ this love will tear me apart. _

“And yet she is what you wish for. Very strange indeed.” The shadows seem to chuckle at her. 

“She… she’s not my wish.” Yasha blurts, her eyes screwed tightly, arms flexed and fists balled. Every part of her body is screaming  _ no, _ and yet… “I’m offering her.”

The hag breaks into a laugh, awful and grating. “Oh, do continue, Orphanmaker.”

“I’m offering our future together. I’ve…  _ seen  _ her, and she’s seen me.” A hot tear floods over onto Yasha’s cold skin, and her heart feels as if it’s a chunk of stone in her chest. “I’m offering — for what I want between us to never come to be.”

The smell of fresh rain enters her nose, but she ignores it. Thoughts flood her head:  _ you will never kiss her. You will never hold her. You will never comfort her after a rough fight, and she will do none of these things for you. You will be alone for the rest of your days. You will not have Mollymauk and you will not have Beauregard.  _ And it sounds like Obann. She touches a hand to the plate of armor on her chest, and wonders if his voice ever even left her mind. If there ever was a chance...

“What a steal, Orphanmaker! Eternal loneliness and suffering… I can almost taste it.” The witch seems to giggle in delight, and Yasha thinks,  _ that’s fucking horrifying. And it’s what I’ve asked for.  _

Yasha unclenches her fist, and offers an open hand to shake. The horrible, twisted hand of the witch in front of her reaches and grasps her own, and it feels like nothing and everything at once. She hears thunder outside of the hut. 

Yasha walks out, her head low, and nods at Fjord. His eyes go wide, reaches out to touch her, before realizing he shouldn’t. Nott asks her a question, and Yasha smiles quickly and nods. 

Beau looks indifferent, and the stone in her chest feels like it’s going to beat itself out of her rib cage. 

The thunder crashes again, and rain falls around her, and she opens her arms to it. 

“Stormlord… it seems it will only be you and me from here on out.” She whispers to the sky. She sees a bolt of lightning in the corner of her eye, and takes it as affirmation. 

The Orphanmaker lowers her gaze from the sky, and walks away as her friends follow. There’s an absence of questions from Jester, and no chuckling for Beau. It feels like a funeral procession; and maybe it is. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: softvaxildan


End file.
